Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Why mention any of this? Arch West was the inventor of the Dorito. I know, you thought Moses (or Charlton Heston who looks just like him) came down from the mountain with The Tablets in one hand and a bowl of Cool Ranch Doritos in the other.
In what I find a delicious (pardon the pun) twist, his family has decided to bury him with the chips, albeit in bags instead of loose covered with guacamole or a zesty cheese sauce. I'm kidding of course, in that Doritos don't actually need a dip (sort of like coals to Newcastle) since the flavoring is baked on/sprayed on/dipped into/dunked upon. I have no idea how they do that part except it always comes off on my fingers to the point of obscuring my fingerprints.
I couldn't figure out from the obit (in the LA Times no less!) how many bags of chips will surround his urn and whether Cheetos will also be involved. Our daughter used to love the latter-and I just realized I don't remember the last time I saw her with any, so I suppose I should see if she has travel plans for Saturday.
My second (a distant, I concede) favorite thing about Doritos, aside from the eating, was always reading the nutritional information on the side of the bag. Gotta love that Red Dye #2 (?), is that what it is? It brings out the blue in your hair roots. And if weren't to know the caloric value, what would I do? Like maybe I'd think they were a health food of some sort, I guess. 'Lookahere, Lurleen," I might otherwise say, "they ain't got none of that transformational polyglot fat what make your butt big in 'em. Have another handful."
All this time I had assumed Doritos were their own food group, along with 'smores and moon pies (only when washed down by an RC cola). Next thing you know, they'll fire the Frito-Lay cartoon spokesman. Perhaps he can duet with Chris on the X-Factor.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Thursday, September 15, 2011
I have some spiffy sport shirts, and I think at least one with the guy on the horse, in my wardrobe at the moment. I don't think I have any of the shirts that have an alligator on them, or with an alligator eating a guy on a horse (I think we'd both remember that one). And while I used to have a lot of rock and roll tee shirts, mostly with a band or performer's name on them, I'm past all of that now, which is just as well as most of the folks I used to listen are disbanded or deceased.
I'm not a fan of the 'clever sayings' tee-shirts though I suspect they have a more official sounding name than that. I find very few of the things folks have on their chest, or lower, and/or on their back to be thigh-slappingly funny. I see a lot of people of both sexes (or should I say 'of all sexes'?) at the gym in shirts and outfits that really make me feel every day of my nearly six decades.
I've encountered women who look to have spray-painted their exercise clothes on. I can always tell with the tops because there are two buttonholes too few and on a cold morning too many party hats. Make no mistake: I am happy you are comfortable with your body (after all, you're the one inside of it); can you understand me not so much?
The other day there were two guys wandering the facility while I was cursing the treadmill (as it was kicking my butt again) in the kind of clothes that lead you to believe their households are governed by that 'first one up is best one dressed' rule and they are late sleepers. On the front of the one guy's black tee shirt in white letters was "Weakness is for Tussies" but they used a P instead of a T when they made the shirt. On the back, was "Balls to the Wall" (without a second S for wall).
The fellow alongside of him had a shirt back with "Train Like a Maniac" and when he turned around, he had what appeared to be a self-portrait of himself on the front, under his chin. And people wonder why I insist on earpieces and listening to the audio player(s) in my cell phone. I am now so rude that when speak to me I NEVER remove the ear pieces, repeating over and over again, 'I won't hear you, I won't hear you.' Some think I should say can't but I've chosen that verb deliberately.
I actually have a shirt with a slogan, I got it years ago and it's still true. People smile when they read it though they shouldn't. It says "I probably don't like you either." In light of how my treadmill treks haven't been working out, it might be useful to get a shirt with my name and address on one side and 'other side up' to go with it. And then hope all those folks from the Literacy Volunteers keep their funding.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
We're getting ready to rumble here over the severe shrinking of the happiness horizon here in Southeastern Connecticut, the part of the state that doesn't have Terence and Buffy on polo ponies but does have lots of folks kitted out in uniforms for their new dream careers as casino change makers. Not agents of change, my brothers and sisters, two dimes and a nickel for a quarter types of finance. You'd think for smart people we could figure out what happened. You'd think that and you'd be wrong.
At one time we told ourselves to get a good job you needed to get a good education. We learned that from our parents who, themselves had learned it from theirs and we passed it along to our kids who ate it up with a spoon. What we forgot, as it turned out, was that the good job would be in a country other than the one they were raised in and that the term itself, 'good job,' was a relative concept, based on the standard of living being practiced wherever the offshore job express happened to drop anchor.
We reached sundown on the union a lot faster than they did in Wisconsin and Jersey and we were nowhere near as bitchy about it, let me tell you. The last decade and more have just gotten weirder and weirder. We've talked/cried/whatevered ourselves out marking the first decade of life after 9/11, but I don't think any of us really believe we have finished. What we are now is what we were when (before that day) we had all the other controlled chaos overwhelm the system from folks with speaking parts in Waco, Oklahoma City, Columbine, and hundreds and thousands of other datelines around the world that didn't even register here in the Land of the Round Doorknobs.
We are now scared of silence. We've basically outlawed it in our social discourse. The 24/7 news folks have been around for over two decades, but it's only in this last one they are so ubiquitous. Remember when you'd be waiting for a flight and the CNN Talking Head would be on and his mouth was moving on one of those TV's suspended someplace in the departure lounge? You couldn't hear squat, but there he was-like God himself watching over us. We, his flock, couldn't hear him, but no one minded.
But now the looners are running the amusement park and have cranked the crazy up to eleven. I was at the gym this morning wearing my earbuds (wtf? I used to have headphones), listening to my noise and news while outside, because we were all early, were a half dozen other people also tuned in and zoned out. No idea what they were listening to-I sure didn't ask 'em. As a matter of fact, if not survival, none of us spoke.
I believe I was the last person on earth to get a Facebook account because it would confirm what I already feared-I have no friends, not even virtual ones. But all of us now are members of the lonely crowd. I realized as I'm heading into the clubhouse turn towards the Big 6-0 (but tell myself it's the New Forty (and it's not, btw)) that we used to do all kinds of shit before there was anything like a Facebook and we told no one about it. Think tree in a forest. Now add sound. What? Exactly.
And now, we all have 'friends' who tell us when they change their picture or whose status update is that they have no update. Say anything-no matter how foolish, how venal, how incredibly self-serving, don't dare leave us alone with our own thoughts because we stopped thinking a while back and forgot how to start again. Thank goodness for the autonomic nervous system or we'd be dead. Sorry. What? Oh, you needed change for a buck-I won't even tell you what I thought I heard.
Monday, September 12, 2011
The horror of that day was witnessed live by countless millions of people around the globe. But what was happening before their very eyes was so monstrous and inconceivable, that many viewers at first failed to fully understand. Even the American President's security adviser needed a moment to grasp what was happening. Then she whispered in George W. Bush's ear words that moments later would travel the earth, "America is under attack!" It was September 11th, 2001- politically speaking, the beginning of the 21st Century.
The day on which Islamist jihadists with hijacked airplanes crashed into the twin towers of New York marked a political turning point. For the first time in its history, the U.S. was struck by an enemy deep in their own country. Islamist extremism threw the world into fear. The whole Western community felt attacked.
My response was as much for myself as for him.
Today is a hard day for me to describe-not sad but certainly not happy either. Here on the East Coast the weather today is very much like what we had on that Tuesday, 11 September 2001, lots of brilliant sun, mild temperatures and brilliant, blue skies.
Heute ist ein harter Tag für mich um zu beschreiben- nicht traurig, aber sicherlich nicht glücklich. Hier an der Ostküste das Wetter heute ist sehr ähnlich wie das, was wir an diesem Dienstag war, 11 September 2001 hat: viele strahlende Sonne, milde Temperaturen und brillante, blaue Himmel.
A decade later we know how that day turned out. It's still early today, Sunday, 11 September 2011, so we're not sure about this one but I remain optimistic. As sad as where we have been, it's even more important that we sort out where we are going as a country and as a part of a much larger and much more dangerous world.
Ein Jahrzehnt später wissen wir, wie an diesem Tag stellte sich heraus. Es ist noch früh heute, Sonntag, 11. September, 2011, so dass wir nicht sicher sind, über diesen tag aber ich bleibe optimistisch. So traurig, wo wir gewesen sind, ist es umso wichtiger dass wir festellen wo wir sind als Land und als Teil eines viel größeren und viel gefährlicheren Welt gehen.
We should remember the past, always, but not live in it. Failing to live out loud as free people would mean all of those who died ten years ago (and all who have died since then), died in vain.
Wir sollten uns an die Vergangenheit erinnern, immer, aber nicht in ihr leben. Andernfalls leben laut, als freie Menschen alle jene, die vor zehn Jahren starb (und alle, die seitdem gestorben sind), umsonst gestorben bedeuten würde.
September 11, 2001 was the saddest day of my life, and of the life of my country. But infinitely sadder would be if all of us failed to practice everyday the lessons of faith, hope, charity and love that we learned in the destruction and despair of September 11, 2001.
Die 11. September 2001 war der traurigste Tag meines Lebens, und aus dem Leben meines Landes. Aber noch trauriger wäre es, wenn alle von uns nicht zu üben jeden Tag den Unterricht von Glaube, Hoffnung, Liebe und Liebe, die wir in der Zerstörung und Verzweiflung der 11. September 2001 gelernt.
We should always celebrate that we are alive in this age of miracles and wonder-that no matter how fearful and frightening the forces aligned and arrayed against us, we have one another.
Wir sollten uns immer zu feiern, dass wir leben im Zeitalter der Zeichen und Wunder. Dass, egal wie furchtbar und erschreckend die Kräfte ausgerichtet und geordnet gegen uns sind, wir einander haben.
Hurrah, wir leben noch!
And now, let us look to the horizon before us instead of constantly glancing over our shoulder. "Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you. Forget the dead you’ve left, they will not follow you. The vagabond who’s rapping at your door is standing in the clothes that you once wore. Strike another match, go start anew. And it’s all over now, Baby Blue."